


Day 23 in the Bunker

by princecollywolly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Image, Canon Divergent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, plus sized reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 14:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princecollywolly/pseuds/princecollywolly
Summary: The coronavirus pandemic has just set in, finally hitting Lebanon, Kansas. Sam and the reader are bored to death. She struggles with her body image, and Sam shows her how much he loves her.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Kudos: 9





	Day 23 in the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last March at the very start of the pandemic, when everyone was making whipped coffee and banana bread and Marie Kondo-ing their house. ah, the before times.

“Saaaayummm,” you whined. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Sam asked, ever so gently. 

“I’m bored.” Your voice was tiny and almost babyish. It was only a week into the statewide shelter in place order, but you’d exhausted all your ideas already. Every cabinet in the bunker had been organized, you’d deep cleaned the bathroom, and you and Sam had re-organized the library according to the Library of Congress classification system. To make things even more tedious, there were no cases. Without people out and about, it seemed monsters were staying put. 

Sam heaved a deep sigh, broad shoulders rising and falling with the breath. “I know. I’m gettin’ there, too.” 

“Mmm want cuddles,” you whined. 

Finally, he looked over at you and ceased his incessant scrolling. “C’mere,” he said, grasping your hand. He kissed your knuckles as you rose from your chair and situated yourself on his lap. To anyone else it may have looked a little sexual, but it was not. Sometimes, (and Sam had figured this out early on), you simply wanted to be held. Now seemed like one of those times. You straddled his lap and slumped against him, head resting against his chest. The two of you figured out that this was the easiest way for you to be close while he did research, even if that research was turning up empty lately. 

“You smell good,” he murmured. 

“I know.” You shifted and looked up at him. “You’re pretty.” 

He grinned, and you laughed. “You’re blushing Sam.” 

“What am I s’posed to do when I get called pretty?” 

“I dunno. But it’s cute. You’re adorable and I love you,” you said, nuzzling against his chest again. 

You could feel him smile at that, and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, wrapping one arm around your back as he scrolled. 

“You make me a better man,” he whispered into your hair. 

You hummed pleasantly at that, and shifted so you could kiss his cheek. 

At that precise moment, Dean walked in, loudly making his disdain known. “Jesus. Y’all have a bedroom. Why’re you fuckin’ in the library again?” 

“We’re not having sex, Dean,” you said dryly. Your voice was muffled against his chest. He must not have heard because Sam spoke up after you. 

“We’re not having sex. She’s just tired and wants attention.” 

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel Dean rolling his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman, not an 8 week old puppy.” 

You didn’t even bother to look at him as you raised your right hand and made an obscene gesture with your middle finger. 

“Real classy. Dinner’s ready, if you guys...eat that sorta thing.” 

Sam’s hand rubbed your back tenderly. “Wanna go eat, honey?” 

You shook your head. “No. Wanna cuddle.” 

“How about we get food and take it to the cave? We can watch TV and cuddle on the couch.” 

“Oh, HELL no,” Dean interjected. “You two are NOT havin’ sex in my man cave.” 

Sam made a grunting noise of disapproval. “First of all, we’re not gonna have sex. Second, it’s just the cave. There’s no man cave anymore. You  _ have _ to accept that.”

Dean grumbled. “I’ve always wanted a man cave.” 

You rolled your eyes. The brothers frequently had this debate. The bunker was essentially a cave, you always said. It was dark and creepy and poorly decorated, in your opinion. Wasn’t that ‘man-cave enough’ for them? 

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s go eat. You’ll feel better.” 

“[y/n], I made you rice noodles and some of that tofu stuff. I know you don’t eat meat or regular pasta,” Dean said. 

You turned her face from Sam’s chest and looked at Dean with one eye. “You’re so thoughtful,” you said in a honey-sweet voice. 

He waved it off. “One of these days, you’ll come to the dark side.” 

“Gross, no.” You looked up at Sam again. “Wanna watch the Mandalorian?” 

The gentle giant smiled and agreed to whatever she wanted. 

______________________________________________________________

“Mmmm….Saaaaaaaam…..” you whined, nuzzling against him. 

Sam looked down at her and grinned. “What is it, baby?” 

You lifted his arm and pulled it around your body. “Hold me.” 

“I  _ am _ holding you.” 

Dean rolled his eyes from his place in the corner lazy boy. “You pregnant or somethin’?” 

Both you and Sam loudly expressed disgust.

“Jesus, fine, ok. You just seem more clingy than usual,” Dean observed. 

“Hmm. ‘S probably my Venus in Cancer,” you said casually. 

Dean choked on his pasta. “Your  _ what _ ?” 

“Google it.” 

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his pizza. 

“So witchy of you,” Sam murmured into your hair. 

“I love you,” you whispered, and gently turned his chin down with your fingertips so he could kiss you. 

Dean rolled his eyes and took his bowl of pasta with him. “Just clean up when y’all are done.”

Neither of you protested at his words. The older brother had clearly made up his mind about what was going to happen. But really, you just wanted to be held. When Dean was gone, Sam laid down on the couch and pulled you on top of him, like a blanket. You pulled the actual blanket on over your bodies, and hummed in contentment. Your head rested on his chest, careful not to dig your chin into him. He had one arm resting across your shoulders, and one on your lower back, rubbing your skin in a soothing motion. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

As if to coax you to speak more, Sam squeezed you closer. “You seem to want this more and more lately.” 

“I just want love. And I wanna feel small.” 

“You are small. Small and adorable,” he murmured, his hand moving down and squeezing your ass. 

You yelped in surprise at that, which quickly melted into a fit of giggles. When those subsided, you sighed. “I just don’t feel small enough.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I weighed myself this morning. I’m at my heaviest.” Your voice was no longer tiny and milky-sweet. It was that stony, even tone you got when you were trying not to cry. 

“You don’t look like it,” Sam offered. His hands lifted up your shirt under the blanket, and skimmed the soft flesh of your sides. “And you don’t feel like it. You feel soft and sweet, like always.” 

“I’m probably crushing you,” you said, and tried to roll off of him. 

“Hey, hey hey hey,” he exclaimed, pulling you back on top of him and securing you to his torso by squeezing you down. “You’re not too heavy. For me or anyone else. Why’re you so concerned about this?” 

You made a whining noise. “I take up a lot of space.” 

Sam was quiet for a moment, pondering what you said. “Why is that a bad thing?” 

You heaved a sigh. “I’ve always been big. I take up a lot of physical space, in pictures and in life. I tower over all my friends, and I’m a lot wider than them. I measured my shoulders the other day, you know. Eighteen inches across. Ya know the average width of a white American woman’s shoulders is 14 inches, and the average man’s is 16? I’m bigger than both.” 

“I like your shoulders,” he offered. He knew it was weak and she would brush it off, but he honestly wasn’t sure what to say. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

He rolled his eyes. “No, baby. I’m not.” He shifted and sat up, taking you with him. Now his back was against the couch properly, and you were straddling his lap. “Have I ever told you...that this is my favorite part of you?” he asked, delicately tracing a finger around the bend of your neck and shoulder. 

You cocked your head and looked at him curiously. “I thought my tits were your favorite.” 

He chuckled, and his hands briefly squeezed your chest over the t shirt for a moment. “I like those too, a lot. But there’s something about your neck and shoulders that I can’t describe.”

When words failed him, his lips descended on the crook of your neck and kissed. His tongue swirled intricate patterns over your soft skin, sucking it into his mouth. You’d have a mark there soon enough, but you didn’t care. His lips and tongue teased and caressed your neck and shoulders, and soon, you couldn’t hold back the moans. 

“Sammy…” you breathed. 

“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed against your shoulder. 

“I….I want you.” You were beginning to feel a little lightheaded and giddy. Even your heart was pattering faster than normal. 

“Where, honey?” he purred against your throat. 

“You’re gonna make me say it, huh?” 

He chuckled, his eyes dark and blown with lust. “You know I like to hear it.” With that, his hand fisted in your hair and pulled your head back to allow him unimpeded access to your neck. Your yelp of surprise only fueled him, and he chuckled before nipping at your skin with his teeth. You steadied yourself by holding on to his biceps as he kissed you, your breaths coming out in short little pants and gasps. Before you knew it, you were grinding against him. 

“Didn’t we tell Dean we weren’t gonna do this?” 

Sam laughed. “Yeah...we did. But he knows better than that.” He tugged at the hem of your shirt and you gladly obliged, lifting your arms up so he could pull off your t shirt. The animalistic groan that left his throat had you throbbing and wet. “You’re so beautiful, my love,” he said, resting his face against your breasts, still in the bra. “So pretty and soft,” he murmured. His teeth grazed the top of your breast, and you let out a strangled, pleasured cry when he bit down harder. Your hips bucked against him and you could feel his hard length through his joggers. 

“Bet you’re nice and wet for me right now, huh?” he rasped against your throat. 

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed. Sam chuckled and slid his fingers underneath the waistband of your leggings and panties, letting out a groan of pleasure at his discovery. 

“Ffffuuuuuck, baby. You really want this, don’t you?” Sam taunted, circling your sensitive little bud with his fingertips. 

Your mind was foggy, and you didn’t think you could form a coherent sentence, so you moaned and ground your hips, his fingers still keeping pressure on your clit. 

“Sammy, please,” you panted. You were dangerously close, but your pleas worked to no avail. Sam instead inserted two fingers and began moving inside you, as if he was scratching the underside of a cat’s chin. 

“What is it, honey?” He asked, knowing your answer full well. 

“Please...Want you to cum with me,” you panted. 

He chuckled, a deep, rich low chuckle from his chest. “But you’re already so close,” he whispered. 

You whined and moved up and down on his fingers. “Sam...please…” 

He only chuckled again, moving his fingers faster inside you and rubbing your clit with his thumb. 

“Cum for me, my love. C’mon, wanna see that pretty face,” he coaxed. 

It didn’t take much coaxing. In a matter of moments, you came with a breathless, silent cry, your hips moving rhythmically as Sam’s talented fingers helped you ride out your orgasm. When you finished, Sam took his fingers out of your pussy and made a show of sucking them clean. 

You slumped against him, arms looped around his neck. “Sammy,” you mewled. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mused, cupping your face with both his hands and kissing you deeply. His eyes were dark with lust when you broke apart, and you could swear you saw a gleam of mischief in his eye. 

“What?” You asked innocently. 

He grinned wickedly. “Take off your panties.” 

You bit her bottom lip and slid off his lap, where you could now clearly see the outline of his cock, hard and ready, against his thigh. As you slowly shimmied out of your leggings and panties, he took out his cock and pumped himself, otherwise still fully clothed. 

“Bra too,” he commanded. 

You grinned as you unhooked your bra and threw it on the couch next to him. 

“You made me so hard, riding my fingers like that,” he groaned. 

“Let me take care of you, then,” you simpered, dropping to your hands and knees and crawling over to him. Sam made no move to protest, and slid closer to the edge of the couch for you. You wasted no time, sliding one hand up his jogger-clad thigh and using your other to pump him hard and fast. He groaned and his head fell back. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his tip, licking like a lollipop until you fit his tip and then some inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing up and down on his cock. 

“Fffffuuuuuck,” he moaned quietly. His hand came to rest on the back of your head, pushing down ever so gently. You took as much of his cock in your mouth as you could before you began to gag, then released yourself, a string of precum and drool leading from his tip to your mouth. The sight was almost more than Sam could handle. “Fuck, baby. You look so good like this,” he cooed. 

You pressed your breasts together with your arms and batted your eyelashes, preening, before taking him in your mouth again. You hollowed her cheeks and bobbed up and down, the only sounds in the room being the quiet credits music of the Mandalorian and you slobbering on Sam’s cock. 

Soon, his chest began to heave and his breathing was labored. “Baby...sweetheart…I’m gonna...I’m gonna cum, you gotta stop.” 

You released him with a popping noise, fondling his balls with your hand. “Why? You didn’t stop for me,” you said playfully, right before taking his tip in your mouth again. 

Sam cursed, and it looked as if he’d surrender for a moment, but then he fisted his hand in your hair and yanked you off his cock. The unexpected motion made you unsteady, and you held onto his knees for support. “I need you. Now.” 

There was a fierce glint in his eye as he said it, his pupils still dark with lust like an animal. He pushed his joggers off his thighs, and motioned for you to get up. You stood up on wobbly legs, feeling your wetness drip down your inner thighs. 

“You’re not getting undressed?” 

He grabbed at your waist and forced you to straddle his hips, his cock pressed between your stomachs. “No time for that,” he rasped. “Need you. Now.” 

You were in no mood to argue, so you settled over his hips, adjusted yourself and lined him up at your entrance. He was always very gentle with you, letting you take as much time as you need to adjust to him. When you were ready, you pushed back against his chest, so that his back was against the high-backed cushions of the couch.

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of your stifled moans and groans, and that occasional squelching that came from flesh against flesh. Sam placed his hands on the outside of your breasts, and bade you lean forward a little so he could suck on your nipples as you rode him. 

Your head fell back in pleasure at the sensation, and you felt Sam chuckle against her skin. “You’re so close, baby. Let go,” he crooned. He knew your body so well. One of his hands left your breast and snaked down to your vee, where he rubbed your clit with his fingertips. “Good girl, that’s it. Cum for me. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

“Sammy…” you breathed. 

“Mmm?” 

“Sammy...I want you to cum with me,” you whispered. 

“I will, baby. I’m almost there,” he said, and as if to show you, he held a hand on your waist to steady you as he bucked his own hips, rutting up into you. 

Curses tumbled forth from your lips, and you nuzzled against the crook of his neck and shoulder. In a matter of moments, both of you came with a silent cry. That molten heat in your lower belly spilled over, warming your entire body and clouding your mind. Sam followed directly after, grunting and spilling himself inside you. 

For a few moments afterward, the two of you just sat there, toffee-limbed and utterly blissed. Sam’s big hands roamed your body, rubbing your back and shoulders soothingly as your own clung to his neck. 

You would have fallen asleep had the next episode started with a burst of action, startling you. “Jesus,” you murmured, and in a moment, shifted yourself so that Sam withdrew from your pussy. 

He laughed out loud. “You were really into that, huh?” 

You nodded, your mind still fuzzy. “Yeah. That was really good,” you said sheepishly, your cheeks heating at the admission.

“I love making you feel good like that,” he murmured. 

You sighed with contentment and pressed your cheek to his chest, closing your eyes, just happy to be like that with him for a bit. After a few moments, your eyes shot open. “Sam, I’m still naked.” 

“Mmmhmmm,” he said, his eyes closed as well. He was still absentmindedly rubbing your back. 

“I should get dressed in case Dean gets back. And we should probably...clean up.” 

You removed yourself from his lap and began gathering up your various items of clothing. When your bra and shirt were back on, you located your panties by the TV, hooking a finger under the waistband and holding them up. “Ok, these are...not suitable for putting back on again,” you proclaimed, feeling a little silly. 

Sam gave a shit eating grin. “If you put ‘em back on, it’d be hot.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “Do you know how uncomfortable and germy that is?” 

He shrugged and conceded. “We should probably go shower, actually.” 

As you pulled on your leggings, you regarded him with a suspicious eye. “A real shower or the...save water kinda shower?” 

The smirk he gave was wicked. “I think we should be conscious of the environment.” 

You laughed. “You said that with such a straight face!” 

“Can’t be too careful,” he said, rising from his place on the couch and beginning to clean. Thankfully he’d been clothed for their activities so there wasn’t much to clean up, but Dean would know. For that reason, he kept Lysol spray and paper towels at the mini bar--even before the coronavirus was a thought in anyone’s mind. Sam cleaned the couch with the Lysol and you gathered the dishes, as if nothing obscene had just occurred. The two of you tried to act natural as you brought your dinner dishes back to the kitchen, but you might as well have been wearing neon blinking signs for the look Dean gave you. He sat at the kitchen table with another bowl of spaghetti.

The older brother regarded you both over the top of his computer screen and rolled his eyes. 

“Did you at least use Lysol spray?” he asked dryly. 

Sam cleared his throat and you tried to fib. You talked over each other, in a chorus that sounded a bit like, “we didn’t...there was no need...seriously, just TV…” but Dean’s stern facade didn’t break. 

“Uh-huh. Sam, you stink like sex. Your girlfriend is walking funny and there’s a hickey on her neck,” he said, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. 

If you had been rather warm with embarrassment before, you were fuming now. You reached up to your neck instinctively, as if to cover the mark. Sam blanched next to you. 

Dean guffawed. “You should see your faces. You look so guilty. Also, relax. I know y’all get it on regularly.” 

Both you and Sam exclaimed at how gross Dean was and how dare he say something like that, but he only laughed. “Jesus, y’all. Relax. I mean, what else are you supposed to do during quarantine?”

“Shut up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, your words staccato. 

Dean closed his laptop and got up, carrying his bowl with him, presumably to his room. Before he left the kitchen, however, he turned back and looked at you both. “You two are practicing safe sex, right? Wrap it before you tap it?” 

You grabbed a dinner roll and threw it at him, yelling at him to go away. The roll bounced off his shoulder and you heard his laugh down the hallway. 

You sighed as you retrieved the roll, and Sam began to wash the dishes. 

“He does have a point,” you mused. 

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at you questioningly. “About what?” 

“We probably should use protection more often.” 

He looked at you curiously, and soon the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Oh, god. What would I do without you?” Sam asked, drying his hands on a towel before wrapping you in a hug. 

“I dunno. I ask myself the same about you every day.” 

“I love you,” he said, and kissed you light and sweet. 

“I love you too, honey. You’re too good for me.” 

And in your heart, you meant it. He was _ way  _ too good for you, and there was no way you deserved him, no matter how many times he reassured you. 

  
  



End file.
